


Of Gods and Beasts

by 9_of_Clubs



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic, M/M, Sexual Tension, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism, Will gives instructions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 06:12:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1458895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/9_of_Clubs/pseuds/9_of_Clubs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will just wants to have a nice, quiet, evening watching TV. He should know that's not how it works with his boyfriends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Gods and Beasts

Hannibal sits down to his left, quiet curiosity written all over his features, and Matt sprawls to his right, legs dangling over his lap, half a yawn smothered by his hand as he grins up. One of his feet creeps too far, as Will watches, nudges Hannibal’s knee all too innocently. The other’s eyes shift slowly at the touch, watching it sharply, but though Will’s breath catches in his chest, Hannibal doesn’t comment. And that...Will is happy to call progress...Needless to say, he’s really lowered his already impossibly low standards for this one. 

“What are we watching?” Matt ignores the look Hannibal sends him and curls up more firmly, the solid weight of him warm against Will’s side, his toes still brushing the fabric of Hannibal’s pants, but more firmly now, something agentic growing behind the touch. A distinct thinning of Hannibal’s lips follow the shift, and Will is half tempted to ask Matt, exasperated, if he has a death wish. But when he turns to look back at the other, the infectious smile that greets him is like a trap and everything melts away at the affection, his own lips curving up without permission. Damn, he feels the frustration ebbing away as Matt’s amusement fills him. _Relax,_ he seems to be saying, _it’s just in fun_. And Will wants to, he does, but he’s really not sure he trusts anyone’s idea of fun anymore. Low standards, he reminds himself, as he shakes his head, _low._

“Uhm, I thought we could watch -”

But he’s cut off again as Hannibal’s hand shoots out from nowhere and snatches Matt’s foot by the ankle, pulling up on it, the other letting out a little yelp as he’s dragged down across the couch. “My apologies Will, I did not mean to disrupt you. But it would appear someone would rather attempt lewd actions with their feet than listen to the answers they asked for.” His gaze turns to Matt, voice dropping rather more dangerously. “Do you have a care for this?” The foot in question is shaken, Hannibal’s long fingers wrapped around it tightly. 

“What? It slipped?” Matthew says in answer to Will’s, _you didn’t,_ eyebrows, shifting to look up at both of them from the lying position he’s been pulled into. But he doesn’t seem contrite at all, his lips parted, eyes glittering lowly, red flush darkening his cheeks. “Anyway, I do like my foot, if it’s all the same to you, but -” He pushes himself up in one graceful movement, all his weight suddenly on Will’s lap, his body leaning forward so he can press into Hannibal’s space, one hand going to curl around his tie, pulling him closer. “But you’re welcome to try and take it from me if you wanna.” 

Will is always astounded by just how quickly they manage to flip the switch in him, his worry fading into something else altogether, as Matt shifts, entirely purposefully, on his hips, grinding down in almost invisible circles while he teases Hannibal. Arousal used to be something of a strange creature to him, something he felt at the oddest of times, but couldn’t even begin to address with anything but his hand. Now it’s an almost constant state of being and...not an unwelcome one. Strangely, he senses, Hannibal feels about this as he does, though he’s less than willing to tip his hand to Matt. Will doesn’t out him. 

For now though, he watches rapt, as Matt’s hands creep down Hannibal’s chest, touching fire casually with reckless abandon. The younger man’s mouth curls into a smirk, and when Hannibal does nothing to shake him off, pushes forward, presses their mouths together as he rocks against Will, the tie around Hannibal’s neck undone and thrown aside. A stripe of Matt’s smooth skin bares itself as his shirt rides up, Will’s fingers find the space. 

“No movie then, I guess.” He murmurs into Matt’s shoulder leaning his head against it, slides his fingers up the contours of the other’s body, across the sharp flatness of his stomach, the outlines of well defined muscles. If Hannibal is crafted like a God than Matt is all that is perfection in the beastliness of humanity, a definition of the ideal that is both approachable and unreachable, no tall mountains to climb, but every bit as a dangerous. 

Matt’s eyes flutter shut at his touches, a sound that borders on pleading, maybe more of a gasp altogether, escaping his lips, but when he opens them again they’re sharp and ravenous. The buttons at the top of Hannibal’s shirt fly open with rough, careless movements, before sharp teeth are on skin, skimming then biting. 

Will tracks the movements with parted lips and whispers before he can help himself. “Kiss him again.” A sinuous thrill enveloping him as Matt complies, draws his lips back to Hannibal’s mouth and steals away all his air. Will’s hand, the one not tucked under Matt’s shirt, still twisting and curving around skin, creeps out as he does, breaks the barrier without asking and threads his fingers with Hannibal’s. The other’s hand tenses for a moment, but then greedily returns the grasp, clenching tightly. 

It’s a heady rush of power, hot and breathless, when he orders Matt to get rid of Hannibal’s shirt and the other does without hesitation, and Hannibal allows them both. To control a beast and a god is more power than one person should have, he decides as the fire in him explodes, a voice he barely recognizes as his own, low and silky, calling out suggestions that unroll before his eyes. Both their consciousnesses have fluttered into his own, mixed up in it and colored it darker.

“Take him on his back.” He finally murmurs, shoving Matt off his hips. He’s so hard now, he might burst, but he wants to watch this. He was denied his movie after all, he’s expecting reparations. He moves himself as Matt pushes Hannibal’s pants past his thighs, strips himself of his own, grabbing around for the lube. Will rises and shifts to stand behind the couch, Hannibal’s eyes drifting up to find his, barely flinching as a finger is pushed unceremoniously inside him. 

He leans over and finds lips, Hannibal’s neck arching towards him, a grunt swallowed up between them as Matt changes something in his movements. In Hannibal’s kiss he tastes everything the other is feeling, lust, anger, tension, want, pleasure. Hannibal doesn’t speak much when they actually get knee deep into it, duels with words at the beginning, winds Matt up and down like a toy, but once they’re touching, once skin is bared and the blood pumping, he seems to vanish into his own reveries, into the music inside his head. Will wants to kiss him so hard he can hear it too, and sometimes, when they get lost in each other, he almost can. It’s not one of those moments though, not now. This is all about blood and sweat, about the three of them entwined. 

He leans back to watch as Matt curves himself over Hannibal, some unspoken intensity passing through them as the other fucks in, moving slowly at first, but Hannibal curves his legs around him and eggs him on, a taunting glimmer in his eye. Matt isn’t one that needs to be told twice. He braces himself with one arm and reaches for Will with the other and then starts to snap his hips, harder and harder, driving Hannibal further up the expanse of the couch, making his head toss back with hisses and growls. 

They’re beautiful like this, the thought crosses his mind, as he lets Matt dig cuts in his wrist, nails burrowing hard as he moves, Will’s free hand tugging into Hannibal’s hair simultaneously, a hard yank, then soft strokes. 

Beautiful and his.


End file.
